Babe’s ongoing medical traumas continue… she’s been referred to City hospital which luckily is only an hour or so away by car. Her first appointment there was the other week. So she and I and Himself piled in the car and off we went. Drive drive drive.
“Are we nearly there yet?”
”I need a wee.”
“Are we there NOW?”
(That was just me. Yes, I am an annoying passenger.)
We also had the usual row about the best way to get to City (my way was naturally far superior, my second route was okay. He went his way, and we ended up stuck in one way systems and at red lights. Just saying.)
Finally arrive at hospital and Babe is actually bursting, so I end up leaving Himself and rushing her off to find a loo. Mistake number one, apparently. Turn up at the paediatric clinic to find an officious snotty petty <coughcough>Sorry choked on bile there. To find the nurse demanding a urine sample and don’t I know that of course I would need one, isn’t it obvious… well, no, actually. No other hospital has asked for one. She’s just been, no way I can get a sample off her. Let’s try forcing water down her…
Except, we can’t. Because actually, nurse not included, the City hospital is, like, awesome, mom! I swear it looks like a playgroup. It has craft tables. Art. Outdoor play. Computers. Doll’s houses *with furniture*!!!!!! Toys with some parts still attached!!!!!!!!!! (Non NHS readers can only wonder about the amazement here; those of us who have endured the NHS will understand my shock). Babe is off, and we have to corral her to actually see a doctor.
The doctor is fairly amazing; he explains things without condescending, he is patient and even cracks the odd joke. Wow. So far so marvellous, ‘eh? Except… well, we went in expecting to hear a) let’s wait and see if she grows out of it or b) we need to do a small op and then she’ll be cured. The prospect of a c) that would blindside us so completely never actually occurred to me. Silly me.
She has a word-I’ve-never-heard-of blah blah. It’s quite rare apparently so we need to repeat all the tests blah blah. If they find what they are expecting they’ll just pop the kidney out (and omfg did he just suggest a nephrectomy on my BABY???????). And they want to REPEAT those tests that she hated??? Awwww crap.
I walked out shellshocked.
Babe however, walked out singing. “I love that place! I want another point-ment! Hospital is sooo fun!” At least she’s happy, huh?